I Thought I Was
by God-Damned
Summary: Draco confessed. Harry rejected. So wahat's a guy to do but to go after the one he loves? Even if it hurts all the way through.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Some of you long-time HPDM readers may remember me. Well, I'm back!! Not with any new story or plot, I apologise, but with a re-post.**

**I have to explain my absence. It was pure, simple, laziness. And a very successful rate of making excuses for myself.**

**Furthermore, I have stopped this story (and all my other stories) at their current point because I very basically have to plot and plan for them. I **_**know**_**. I **_**am**_** a horrible writer.**

**I read through **_**I Thought I Was**_** and found that till this point the story goes like how I would like it to. Now it's for me to think up the next few steps and actually end this. I have a very vague idea of their path but it is only how to make it believable that I really stumping me.**

**But here is the repost of the previous chapters. About 2 more, since I cut them up and split them more so the pacing is a bit more even.**

**Enjoy, again.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

It all started with me thinking that maybe I should just tell him, that he would understand, and just maybe accept it.

"_I like you." _

"_Huh?" _

"_I said I like you. I like you a lot." _

"_Oh." _

Then he burst out laughing.

That was rude. And it didn't go as intended. But at least now he knows.

"_Malfoy, I'm not gay. And what's more, I hate you." _

That was_ bloody_ rude. And it hurt.

"_Whatever, Potter. I just thought that your egotistical self would like to know." _

And I turned to leave. Just as I turned the corner and went out of his sight-

"_Malfoy, I'm going out with Luna Lovegood." _

Now that just hurt.

* * *

Harry wondered, after he met up with Luna for lunch and was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, what Malfoy had wanted. Did he really mean what he said about liking him? He did look very serious.

But that was impossible. Just… impossible. And very, very weird. Maybe it was just a prank. The brat did have a thing for leading Harry on on such ridiculous things and into trouble.

But Malfoy did seem to have hurt when he said that he hated him. What if he was really serious? It would most definitely hurt when someone you just confessed that you liked him to said that he hated you. And he remembered how nerve-racking it was to confess to someone all too clearly. He'd never forget the time when he asked Luna to go out with him. He'd been nervous to the point of almost passing out. And he kept thinking about how he would just absolutely bury hide in his room forever and hang himself if he got rejected.

Malfoy looked just about the same as he was then before he asked Luna out. And he looked worse then he imagined he would be if Luna had turned him down. It was possible that he was really….

……

Nah.

He stopped brooding about it and pushed it to the back of his mind as Luna tapped him lightly on his arm to tell him something and he smiled softly at her.

* * *

After about two levels, Draco started to run. With a sudden burst of energy his legs carried him down from the sixth story or so of the castle to the first and out through the doors onto the snow-covered grounds. The cold air whipped at his face and the fresh snow crunched under his feet, his legs burning from pushing too hard. But still he ran.

He headed towards the Quidditch pitch and as he approached the gaps between the stands that led to the seats, he took a left turn and followed the outer wall of the stadium.

Finally, Draco stopped and reached out a hand to support himself against the wall, doubling over to try and catch his breath. His lungs burned and his calves felt the beginnings of a cramp. In the end he just gave up and collapsed against the cold stadium wall, his chest still heaving and his eyes closed tight, trying so hard not to cry.

He tried. I mean, he really tried. But he just couldn't figure out why. Why Lovegood? Why the _hell_ Lovegood?

He could at least understand if it were Granger. Or maybe even the Weasley brat. But _Lovegood_?

Draco admitted, it did make quite a dent in his ego. The most he had expected was to be rejected, not to be told who he was going out with along with it. Let alone that he was going out with _Lovegood_. Why the _hell_ did he tell him anyway! That bastard was a pure sadist.

The blond Slytherin sat up in his bed and glared at his feet stretched out in front of him. However, no matter how much he wanted to blame it on his toes and say that it was all their fault, he couldn't. So he plopped back down onto his bed again.

Honestly, when Draco had envisioned being in love, he didn't think it would be this hard. At nine years old (from being told from Mother), he thought that everyone had someone they met and loved for the rest of your life and it was just holding hands and kissing. At ten years old, they meet someone they love and lots of holding hands and even more kissing (from books).

At twelve years old, Pansy found out (by experience) that you don't just meet someone and love them for the rest of your lives. But there was still a lot of holding hands and kissing. At thirteen, he and Blaise found out (by accident) that there was actually _more_ going on than just holding hands and kissing. At fourteen, it was just sex. Fifteen and sixteen, you actually meet more than one _and_ hold hands, _and_ kiss _and_ have sex.

And now, at seventeen going on eighteen… well, nothing. Just _love_. And pain. And he _still_ wasn't getting any. Draco just wished his glare was strong enough to bring the canopy of his four-poster down over his head to smother him and bring him away from the humiliation forever.

The next few days were absolute torture. This was supposed to be over after he had told him, dammit! Obviously, Draco wasn't going to trust and fiction stupid love novels anymore. Why did he trust them in the first place? Idiot. They were called _fiction_ for a reason.

Now every time he passed by Harry in the corridors or saw him in the Great Hall, especially when that Lovegood was sitting next to him (what's she doing at the Gryffindor table? She's a Ravenclaw!) he couldn't even meet his eyes and had to duck his head and walk very fast away. It wasn't doing for his reputation. His friends noticed of course. Especially fucking Blaise. After all, he was the only one who Draco told about his little- excuse me, humungous- crush on Harry Potter. It was another reason he wanted to kill himself and pull Blaise down with him into the grave. He didn't really tell him he told Potter, but Blaise being Blaise, he found out anyway.

Pansy was just a busy-body. But he's forced to say it's concern as she was still one of his best friends. Vince and Greg only noticed because they almost chocked on their food in their hurry to catch up with him. Well, at least they noticed. Was that good or bad?

Finally, after about eight days of the shame and irritating Blaise and his jokes, Draco decided to do something.

He was going to make Harry Potter fall in love with _him_.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

Harry had woken up late that day, as did many of the other students. Who would wake up early on a Saturday? He trudged down to the Great Hall at around eleven along with Ron who yawned at least five times before they reached.

Hermione was already there. She was one of the weird people who never slept late on a Saturday. Immediately, Harry's eyes went to the Ravenclaw table and searched for a familiar head of long brown hair. Spotting it at the usual end of the table, he gave his girlfriend a small wave and motioned for her to come over as he sat down in opposite of Ron and Hermione. When Luna came over to sit down beside him, he gave another small in greeting and kissed her on the cheek before resuming his breakfast. He ignored the whisperings of fellow classmates. They were only just coming out, and this would die down in a while, anyways.

Five minutes into his eggs and talk about what they should do after breakfast (they all opposed homework, suggested my Hermione) a swoosh from above signaled the arrival of owl post. ("See, the owls sleep late on Saturday" Ron said to an annoyed Hermione.)

Hermione received new toothbrush from her parents. (Ever since they bought their new barn owl, they've been sending Hermione things every week.) Ron got a letter from Mrs. Weasley reminding him to behave and to ask him whether Harry and Hermione would join them over Christmas. (Ron grumbled about needing to be reminded to behave. "She acts if I'll blow up the school one day!") Luna received one from her dad asking her to come home for the holidays too.

And, unexpectedly, an owl swooped down and landed neatly in front of Harry. Harry stared at it for a moment, not registering that the letter held out on the leg on the small brown owl was for him. In fact, he had to stare a while to register that what was looking at him was even an owl. In was so small it rivaled Ron's Pigwidgeon. But (fortunately) this one seemed more tamed and less excited to make a successful delivery.

"Harry."

"Huh?" he turned his head towards Hermione.

"I think he's waiting for you to take the letter."

"Oh. Right."

Quite hesitantly, Harry reached out his hand to untie the envelope from the small leg with some difficulty. But the owl just stood still, waiting patiently for Harry to untie the note before giving a small hoot that sounded more like a tweet than anything before flying away again.

"Who is it from, Harry?" Ron leaned forward enthusiastically, having never seen the strange owl before and curious as to who sent it.

"You could wait until Harry had at least opened it, Ron." Hermione said. Ron pouted and sat back in his seat properly, waiting for Harry to read the letter.

As Harry opened the envelope, he found out that in it was not a letter, but a plain white card with thin gold borders weaved on the paper like golden tread in an intricate and delicate design. In the middle of the front, tiny silver letters Harry almost missed as they reflected the morning sunlight, a note was weaved.

"This is how you make me feel." He read out loud. He looked up at his friends around him to see them all leaning forward expectantly now, even Hermione. Seamus and Dean joined in.

Feeling a tad annoyed, Harry opened the card and instead of words, lines and lines of what Harry recognized as musical notes appeared magically across the page. Then a piano started playing from what seemed like somewhere in the card.

The notes were light and with a slightly fast pace, pausing, after every few notes before stopping in low bass. The gold notes on silver bars on the page faded for a second along with the music before they appeared again. The notes picked up the previous pace and continued the piece as the music flooded around the room and echoed off the walls of the Great Hall. A moving song played on, up and down the keyboard as if a really piano was there and Harry listened, entranced, as the melody made it to the higher notes, as if the person playing was very happy. Then it went back to the said tune in the beginning, and Harry's heart twinge at the emotion the music evoked in him. The gold and silver treads appeared and disappeared as it wrote down line by line the notes being played.

On and on it when like that, for what seemed like a timeless eternity, then the song ended and faded on the final low note just like the introduction in the beginning.

Stunned, Harry just sat there for a while, emotions still running wild within him. Then he looked up at his friends who all mirrored his expression (he felt) of surprise, sadness and pure emotion with no name after hearing the piece.

Suddenly, he felt it too quiet, and he noticed that he and his friends weren't the only ones who had heard and listened to the card. The whole Hall of students had turned their full attention onto Harry and his card, some turning a hundred-and –eighty in his their seats to see what was going on. Even the teachers at the Head Table were silent and attentive. It seemed that the card played louder than he expected.

Then Seamus broke the moment, "Ooooo…. Harry's got a secret admirer! You better watch out Luna."

The general student body then either laughed at that comment or turned away immediately, embarrassed or ruffled at the sudden break in silence as Seamus snickered. Secretly, Harry thanked him and he saw the Irish boy wink back at him.

The rest of his friends, however, continued to plough him with questions. He searched the envelope or the card for and name to the sender but he found none. Feeling slightly disappointed, Harry opened the card again to have the beginning notes to the song play out again and Harry quickly shut the card again, noticing a few heads whip around in his direction once more. He gave a nervous chuckle and stuffed the card hurriedly but carefully into his bag. He'll see into it later.

The rest of breakfast was relatively calm and uneventful. Only once in a while the question of "Who do you think it is?" came up again, only to be replied with a shrug of the shoulders from Harry who kept casting worried glances at Luna. He wasn't sure how she was taking this. She seemed alright, talking like usual, smiling and with that adorable dreamy look of her face.

But silently he, too, was trying to figure out who the mystery music person was. Yes, Harry had very easily nicknamed the person who sent him that piece of music the 'music person'. He wouldn't say he knew a lot about music, having never really listened intently to the radio of any sort of music before, least of all classical. But he knew good music when he heard it. That piano was good music. Only then was it able to move him and so many others into such an entranced state.

"Harry. Harry! Are you coming?" A voice broke into the black-haired boy's thoughts. He turned to find Luna looking at him expectantly, already standing up as Hermione and Ron looked back at him too. He was the last of their group still seated at the table.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled. He stood up hurriedly and took Luna's hand as they walked out passed the other tables towards the doors to get to class. The small hand in his squeezed his and he looked at his girlfriend. She just turned to him and looked back, smiling at him in a reassuring way. "Still thinking about it?" she asked.

Harry couldn't help but sigh. "Luna," he started.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not bothered." Harry just looked at her for a moment, then he smiled back. That was a reason why he had decided to go out with Luna. She was great at hearing people out and accepting everything you said, yet she stood by her own believes. And when she decided to believe and trust you, she stood by that decision for a very long time. And Harry was ever so glad of that.

* * *

He couldn't take it. He just couldn't. He forced himself to breathe in deeply and calm down. It was only the beginning. He didn't even think that it would take effect so quickly. Still, he couldn't help but feel like almost all his hope had come crashing down like a piece of crystal from the top of the Astronomy Tower, dragging his heart down with it, both smashing to pieces on the stupid green grass.

Great, he's taken to insulting grass.

Draco took another deep breath. What went wrong? He tried to rationalize, blocking out the numbing pain that threatened to overtake him once again. Harry was taken in by that move, he was sure. The way he sat there as if in a trance while he listened to the card he sent him. Draco almost hoped he had won him over. The card was made anonymous for a reason. He didn't want Harry's friends knowing about his little crush until he had won said crush over. And Harry should know who the card was from. He trusted that much. Unless he had people telling him that they loved him everyday for the Wonder Boy to remember every one of his admirers. But Draco doubted so, he watched the Gryffindor at every possible moment. There was no one else. Except Lovegood, which he still couldn't figure out how he missed.

But Harry had looked confused at the card. Then Draco had seen all the way from his Slytherin table the search for a name on the envelope and card. Draco had started to panic. This was not good. He wasn't counting on this. He didn't expect that boy to be so _daft_. It was barely ten days! Had he forgotten all about that confession already? That five minutes of his most honest and open feelings and thoughts? The most terrifying and horrendous five minutes of Draco's life? He seemed he did and it was all Draco could do not to break there and then.

It didn't help that Harry had gotten up and off with that Lovegood, holding hands and smiling like they were so in love.

Forget what he just said. _This_ was the most horrendous five minutes of his life.

* * *

**(A/N / Disclaimer: The song I'm talking about in here, though I'm not very good at literating music, is really good. Thus I stated that it couldn't really be put into words. It is by Jeffrey Michael. Winter Spirits Part 2: Peace.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

Harry's head snapped up in the middle of taking notes and he jumped in the air, spinning around abruptly and almost taking out Ron's eye with his quill and spilling his bottle of ink. Ron yelped and a few others around the room jumped.

"Mr. Potter! What in the world do you think you're doing?" Snape all but yelled. But it didn't seem as if the young Gryffindor was listening. The professor wasn't going to stand for it. "Mr. Potter!" he bellowed.

That got the attention of Harry and he snapped his head to the front and up again where Snape now towered over him. Again Ron yelped as he was almost blinded by a feather. "Yes, sir?" Harry asked meekly, trying not to cower.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." Snape put it simply before returning to his lectures about some potion or the other. He was in a good mood today.

After a while, so as to ensure the coast was clear, he heard Ron mumble beside him. "What was that about, mate?"

"Nothing." Harry mumbled back and waved his wand to clean up his ink. He had learnt that from Hermione, mostly for work with Neville. He looked down to copy his notes intently, signifying the end of the subject. Ron could only cast a disbelieving glance at his friend before doing the same.

_He isn't here_, Harry thought.

* * *

Draco knew he was in big trouble as he walked into one of the bigger rooms of the dungeons that night. He had skipped one class. It was a Monday and the first class of the day. At bloody 8 in the morning. The sun hadn't even risen yet and the motivation of his every waking moment hated him. He skipped _one_ bloody class. Obviously, that was not to be excused in the eyes of Severus Snape.

He stopped in front of the wooden door and knocked lightly, hoping that he could use the excuse of Severus not hearing him and him thinking that the professor was not in.

"Come in." came a muffled voice from within. Guess not.

Almost resignedly, Draco pushed the twisted the door knob and pushed the door open. Severus sat behind his desk marking a piece of parchment, two other stacks beside him: marked and unmarked. He waved a hand lightly at Draco, asking him to sit.

Draco stepped to the couch at the left wall and plopped himself down, raising his feet up onto the cushions so he was spread along the length of the two-seater. He didn't want to be so close to Snape when he lectured so he didn't leave him any chance of seating next to him.

Severus took a minute more to finish his assault of crosses and circles on the piece of parchment before looking up at Draco on the couch where the young blond was just starting to nod off. Severus cleared his throat and Draco jerked awake immediately. After realizing that the deep rumble that he heard was in fact not an earthquake, he relaxed again in his seat and looked at the potions master who had just stood up from the table and was walking towards him.

Severus stood over the glaring boy for a moment, contemplating him, before reaching down and shoving the Draco's feet off the couch and taking the seat himself.

_So much for not being close to him_, Draco grumbled under his breath as the professor conjured up a small table with tea on it right in front of them. Snape ignored him and they sat there for a few minutes, sipping their tea. The tea, Draco noted, flowed smoothly down his throat and then throughout his body, giving him a sudden burst of strength yet making him feel relaxed at the same time. It was Severus' very own creation. Trust the potion master to play with a thing like tea. Yet he felt grateful. It was just what the both of them needed at the moment.

Finally, Severus started to speak. _Here goes_, Draco thought.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked before taking another sip of his tea and then setting it down on the table. Draco looked at him for a second. "Well, for starters, the tea's a bit bitter. Not up to your usual standard, Severus." He replied, casually with a straight face.

"Would you prefer detention?" the man said while turning towards his student. Young Malfoy was silent. He was _actually_ thinking about it. Snape fought the urge to sigh. He understood his godson well. He also understood the boy's father. The boy was taught from young to not to reveal anything, especially anything of do with thoughts, emotions or feelings.

"It's nothing, really." The blond said after a minute.

"I heard that piece in the Hall that day."

"You and everybody else."

"Potter?"

"Any of your business, Sev?"

"I hope not."

"Well, none."

"But it is yours."

"As you know."

"And you are my business."

"Quit the godfather stuff. I'm getting nauseous."

"You're going to have to tell me, you know." At that, Draco sighed and Severus knew he had won.

After another short span of silence, his godson looked at him and asked, "Which one do you think I should give him the next?"

They needed more of that tea.

* * *

Harry lay in bed that night, thinking the day through. He hated doing that. But the situation needed immediate attention. He raised the white card above him again. He had spent the day with his mind sporadically thinking about who sent it until potions, when the answer suddenly hit him, two days after he received it.

He blushed a little at his absent-mindedness. The answer was quite obvious. Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of it before that. I mean, the guy told him right in the face.

He had looked around the dungeon classroom for Malfoy once he realized that, but he hadn't seen him. Malfoy never missed a Potions class. It was the only class he always topped, even with Hermione around and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was the cause of the boy's absence. He didn't see him at dinner either, or, come to think of it, at any other meals or time of day during the rest of the weekend.

So came the question: 'Was Malfoy really serious that day?'

It seemed quite obvious that he was now. The card Harry held in his hands was sent to him in the Great Hall. That was practically alike to screaming it out loud to the whole school, just that the card was anonymous. And Harry felt guilty for not recognizing the sender straight away.

But now that he thought of it, perhaps that was a good thing. He would have searched for Malfoy with his eyes if he knew it was him. That would have given away who the sender was. Then his anonymity would have been for naught. And he didn't want his friends knowing that Malfoy, his school enmity, was having a crush on him. And, Harry guessed, neither did Malfoy.

However, the fact remained that Harry felt nothing but (he admitted) petty rivalry and competitiveness for Malfoy. How Malfoy developed the crush for him in the first place was still befuddling him. He was his enemy. _And_ a boy. But he had learnt by now, the hard way, which tolerance of homosexuality in the wizarding world was actually very high.

The crush would fade. Malfoy chose the wrong word of 'Love'. They could never be. He must drill that into Malfoy before this got out of hand. But, before that...

Harry cast a silencing charm over his bed and opened the card once more, drifting into sleep filled with flying broomsticks and pianos.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**Early next morning, Harry went out to the pitch to practice his Quidditch alone as there was usually no one on the field during weekday mornings

* * *

Early next morning, Harry went out to the pitch to practice his Quidditch alone as there was usually no one on the field during weekday mornings. It was the best time to practice his speed and agility. Today, however, it seemed as if he wasn't the only one who decided to practice. He'd recognized that style and posture anywhere.

Malfoy.

Suddenly, the whole of yesterday and the days before came rushing back to him and Harry lifted his head back and squared his shoulders before stalking determinedly forward.

It looked like Malfoy spotted him because he started to descend. Even from across the length of the field Harry could see that the other boy was desperate to get away as he jumped off his broom before he even reached the ground and walked hurriedly in the opposite direction in which he would have to walk a whole round around the stadium to get back to the castle.

Harry lengthened his strides to catch up but half-way through he realized he would never catch him this way. He turned around and walked towards the side entrance on his right, surprising the Malfoy as he rounded the corner, right in front of the now-running blond who almost crashed into him. Malfoy jumped back like he'd been burnt.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted him calmly. Malfoy looked like he was about to make a dash for it. "We need to talk." Now he looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"Calm down, Malfoy. It's just to talk." By then, the Slytherin seemed to have collected more of himself and said, "About what, Potter?"

"The card." Harry said simply. Malfoy flinched. So it _was_ him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry had to roll his eyes at that. Could the boy be anymore cliché and transparent? Was he that nervous around him to even have his usual comebacks? This thought made Harry stop and look at the slightly shorter boy in front of him.

His hair was a little mussed from the flying, cheeks flushed from running, shoulders squared with a little quiver in them and knuckles white from gripping his Nimbus too hard.

Harry's eyes widened at the sudden realization that he had such power over Malfoy. The other boy hardly lost his composure in any situation. He was the Head Boy and had been the head prefect of his house for his year, every year before that. He witnessed the quick, just decisiveness and the absolute control and power he had over the other students of students, be it younger, more senior or from all four of the different houses. The respect those below and above him in his house held him in whenever he was right in those decisions. Even the teachers at times seemed intimidated by him.

Malfoy may have seemed comical and scared the first few years of knowing him with all his antics and boastfulness and the unabashed way he stood on the pedestal of his world, but Harry knew that when the boy wanted to, he could make you cower. Even if the rumors of his father buying him the best positions in school were real, Harry had no doubts that he deserved it now.

But looking at the increasingly panicky blond boy in front of him now, Harry could hardly believe he was the same Malfoy. He could not believe he could do this to him without even meaning to.

"Potter," Malfoy finally said in a voice steadier than he had expected. He was good. "If you have nothing to talk about, like I believe you do, _I_ have better things to attend to." The dark-haired boy snapped out of his musings and grabbed the stiff arm before Malfoy got too far away. Malfoy jerked, yanking his arm away and jumped back for the second time, now closer to hyperventilating than anything and his face pale, a great contrast to his little pink cheeks just a minute before. Harry took an astonished step back. He hadn't expected that great of a reaction.

"Don't touch me." The voice was so different from the one he used just now.

"Malfoy,--"

"Don't. Not unless… Just... don't." The voice cracked as the blond boy turned away and started making his way jerkily up the slope towards the castle.

Harry let him go, certain he saw the sparkle of tears at the corner of the proud boy's eyes.

* * *

Another stupid thing he did in a span of two weeks was to go down to the Quidditch pitch for a round on Sunday. Draco knew Potter went there on Sunday mornings to fly. Draco just wanted to clear his head a bit as he got woken up from another one of his Potter-induced dreams in the dead of the morning (more specifically, 4-bloody-am on the fucking cold morning) and couldn't get back to sleep. He decided that the frosty wind was good for his head, as it proved more than once before its miraculous effects on the workings of his mind whenever in a tough situation.

However, it has yet to prove the same in all the times he flew to clear his head of Potter. In fact, it did the bloody opposite. He would start thinking about Potter. How Potter flew. How he smiled when he flew, smiled like he would no where else. How his laughter carried through the air, how he laughed like the most carefree person in the whole. How he could make Draco feel like he _himself _was the most carefree in the world.

Then he would start to imagine. He would imagine what the smile would feel like on his ear, how the laugh would sound like next to his ear, how the warm arms would keep him warm as the chill wind whipped through their hair and…

Damn. He dreamt too long and he shot back down to earth like his thoughts as he spotted Potter walking towards the pitch from the castle. He jumped off his broom and made for the exit furthest from Potter. He wasn't going to talk to him now. He was in no mood. Not when he couldn't even rid the boy from his waking thoughts.

He could almost feel the stare boring into his back as he walked faster and faster away from Potter. He then broke into a run when he turned the corner of the exit of the pitch and was out of sight of the dark-haired boy. He had to get away. Potter was going to wan to talk to him. He knew. He just knew.

He had to bite back on a panicky scream when he almost collided into the said devil of his thoughts.

Potter went on with the usual 'got-to-talk' speech and Draco would have snorted at the predictability of the situation if he hadn't been in the situation himself. And the troubled one, too. He just knew it. He knew it. He shouldn't have come down. He should have stayed in bed and slept. Stayed in bed and dream. He didn't need this. He didn't.

He mentioned the card. Oh no. Not the card. He didn't know. He didn't know, _right_? He denied it. Why the hell did he deny it?

He was panicking. He could feel it. He had felt this numerous times before, during the many failed attempts, when he was just a step away to say to Potter what he actually felt for him. There was no escaping. Potter was blocking the road to the castle. He seemed to be scrutinizing him and went into deep in thought. This was his chance

"Potter, if you have nothing to talk about, like I believe you do, _I_ have better things to attend to." _Stupid, stupid Draco._

That got Potter's attention. He reached out to grab Draco just as the nervous boy thought he was home-free. Draco nearly screamed again at the unexpected contact. The grip on his arm was unconsciously strong and firm. The calloused palm scratched his skin and it made Draco want to cry. No matter how much he wanted to touch Potter, he didn't want him to touch him like _this._ He jumped and yanked his own arm away from the vice-like grip like it stung.

"Don't touch me." He could hardly say it.

Potter had a look of mild shock on his face. "Malfoy…"

"Don't. Not unless…" It was impossible. "Just… don't." He had to get away.

Draco turned towards the castle, too weak he used all his strength to stop the tears once again.

* * *

The two didn't cross paths for the remainder of the week. Malfoy made it very clear that he was avoiding Harry whenever possible. He never noticed before how many times a day the two of them could meet and how many ways a sly snake can dodge you. Harry wondered how many of the times they collided was the purposeful result of the blond. It was making Harry increasingly frustrated as he had still to talk to the Slytherin about this problem.

He never saw him in corridors. They could never talk in classes as he also just noticed that Malfoy had bullied some Slytherins from the corner of the classroom into changing his previous seat, which was the closest to the Gryffindor side of the room and the closest he could get to Harry, in Potions.

In Care of Magical Creatures, he no longer walked up to Hermione, Ron and him to taunt. He was careful to stand in the middle of the whole horde of Slytherins and didn't make any snide comments to gain unwanted attention. He arrived late and was gone before Harry even had the chance to call out his name.

He left just as Harry sat down at meals, whether he had finished with his or not. He tried not to be noticed, even though that was almost impossible. As Harry watched the few times he made his escape from the Hall, he also saw more than a handful of heads from all of the houses turn as he walked across the Hall and exited the great double doors. The thing was, Harry suspected that the attention-loving git didn't even notice most of the time.

Harry refused to call after the boy. He would not go after him when this whole stupid thing was that idiot's doing in the first place. Malfoy was to solve it himself. But he was reluctant and Harry wanted to just… push him in the right direction. The fact that _Malfoy_ had a crush on him was unsettling. He didn't even dare to think about it too much after that little episode at the Quidditch pitch. All he knew was that he had to get Malfoy to get over with this little 'phase' or whatever it was he was going through (he was willing to switch to 'insanity' anytime) and stop (urgh! No!) liking Harry. That is, if he even did.

But Harry felt that time wasn't coming anytime soon as Saturday arrived again with its usual Saturday post and the second of his piano cards filled the Hall with another melodious tune and it told how it was like to love him with it's gold and silver threads. (The exact words on the card were: 'To love you is like…')

The piece was another heart-mover, yet it was so different form the previous one. It went up and down again, but at a slightly pace. The beat was smooth, yet stronger. A lonely piece, yet one that gave an image of beautiful mountains with wide ranges and a rough, bumpy road. One that gave hope yet put you in the place where all hope was hardly able to save you at all.

It made Harry look up and search for the sender, only to see that he hadn't come down for breakfast again. The whole Hall was again tuned in to Harry and his new card and he felt immensely self-conscious and embarrassed as he put the card in his bag while thinking: "Was it_ that_ hard to like me?"

He turned to Luna, who smiled at like nothing was wrong and continued to eat her breakfast.

Maybe it was.

* * *

_**Disclaimer: The second piece is by Jeffery Michael, Disc 2 Track 2**_

_**(Sorry, can't remember the name)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

The third card came the following Saturday morning, as usual. It quickly became a routine, having the small owl come down toward him with a card, always with the same delicate design and with a new message, telling him that he meant something to someone he rather not think about.

As the small bird landed in front of him he noticed out of the corner of his eyes that a few heads already had their heads turned toward him. It was quite unnerving. He glanced up and was not surprised to see that the sender wasn't at breakfast again. He wondered how the guy could survive so long without food for so long as he thanked the owl who gave its customary tweet before flying off again.

He considered not opening it and just stuffing it in his bag before slowly savoring it in his own time but gave up when Seamus urged him to "Open it!"

Feeling unnerved by all the eyes upon him (again), Harry read the note on the front-- "You're just out of reach…"—hurriedly before flipping the card open, so as to stop all the other curious eyes from reading it, surprised at the anticipation he felt.

Once again, a wave of emotions swept over him, so familiar yet so different. With a few gentle yet firm notes the song begun, steadily bringing him deeper and deeper into a different world. He felt like he was floating and absently wondered whether these cards were enchanted to make listeners feel this way. He watched, mesmerized, as rows and rows of musical notes appeared and disappeared before his eyes. He saw them yet before he could try and really look at them, they were gone. He was always fascinated by the lines and dots that made up the sound they call music.

They flashed before his eyes again and again and he was unable to catch any one of them. Frustration built up in him. His mind started rebelling. Malfoy knew this could never work. He admitted it himself. So why was he even trying? The boy wouldn't even let himself be seen, for goodness' sake! He had to talk to him. Had to make him realize this was hopeless as soon as possible and to stop wasting him time.

He snapped the card shut right before the song ended, effectively snapping everyone out of their stupor. Grabbing his bag, he stood up from the table, ignoring the calls from his peers, and without another word, set out to find the sender.

* * *

The Gryffindors stepped into the Transfiguration classroom the following Monday morning to see a very disgruntled-looking Harry Potter already at his seat.

"Harry, what's wrong? We've been searching for you all weekend. Where have you been?" Hermione got straight to the point as she sat down beside her friend, Ron at her side, leaning in the catch the conversation.

"Nothing. Nowhere" Was her brief answer. Hermione and Ron shared a look that was missed by Harry as he was glaring at the blackboard at the front of the classroom, jaw set and hands making a subtle wringing motion. This did not go unnoticed by either of his friends but they were forced to save their comments for later as McGonagall started her lesson.

He hardly paid attention throughout the whole lesson and rushed out of the class right after, before Hermione or Ron could even notice his absence.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

Luna Lovegood may be a little clueless, or may space out at the most inappropriate of times. And, sometimes, she may not have a view shared by many. But Luna Lovegood was not dumb. Nope. She was not. In fact, she was quite perceptive. She had slightly above average results and was a keen observer. Harry had told her once, too, that that was once of the traits that attracted him to her.So it was quite natural that she knew something was bothering her boyfriend, the aforementioned Harry Potter. And that the source of that distress was the cards that came every Saturday that was oh so nice to listen to. It had Harry quite captivated.

The cards were very dear to Harry. He puts them in his bag and brought them along with him wherever he went. What's more, Harry had been acting noticeably stranger and more jumpy since he received the first of those cards. He doesn't say it, but Luna knows that whenever he zones out in the middle of something, most of the time a meal, it is about those cards.

Luna didn't mind that much that Harry had an admirer – he always has. That was something Luna knew even before she knew Harry. Who didn't? She never really thought much about it. But it was a reason why she _was _a little taken aback when Harry had first asked her out. She also didn't mind that Harry was receiving cards from that admirer. (He also receives them on a regular basis.) But she was quite puzzled as to why Harry was so bothered.

Harry had a huge heart. He gets flustered when someone is good to him. He told Luna before, why that was so. He hinted about his childhood with the Muggles. She understood sometimes tried to buy or make or do something for him every so often. You can see the appreciation in his eyes and it was, quite honestly, beautiful. So when someone shows him affection, even anonymous, and he can't return in kind, he feels very bad, as if he'd let the person down. He usually got over it quickly enough though, with assurance from his friends, mostly, that it was not his fault.

But this time, he was more…disturbed than usual. This made Luna curious and worried. No, she wasn't all that worried that Harry might actually be considering another relationship. It would be obvious if he was. It was something much deeper than that and Luna was curious as to what it was.

Luna never really understood why Harry asked her out in the first place. She asked him once and he had very nice things to say about her which she would never use to describe herself. But it seemed enough for Harry, and she accepted the answer. She never had any prior experience in any of this sort of relationships, but she knew it was a great thing to be in one. Her dad once told her that when two people are in love with one another, they feel that the other is perfect and could find no fault with the other. They were willing to give up whatever and do anything to make the other happy.

It seemed very easy for people to be in love to Luna, then. She fit all the requirements. So she guessed she _was_ indeed in love with Harry. If that was what it meant. But it didn't feel as special as people said it was. She guessed it was exaggerated, like most other things people exaggerated.

But she knew for certain that she would do anything for Harry to be happy. She felt, and so did her dad, and Mrs. Weasley, along with Hermione and Ron, that it was the least Harry deserved. So she was quite trouble that Harry was troubled and was determined to sort it out.

Harry wouldn't tell her anything that was for sure. He didn't like to put his issues upon other people's shoulders. And she knew that the problem wasn't with the fact that he was considering another relationship or that Luna would suspect that he was considering another relationship. So she set about finding out.

First, she figured, since the source of problem lay with the cards, she had to start there. It wasn't the cards themselves. Harry adored them. He was quite a lover of music. Luna had a feeling that Harry knew who was sending those cards. He always seemed contemplative of those cards. She had to make a wild guess that he knew who the sender was.

So it was the sender…. Who was…?

Now here's the first hitch in her plan.

Hmm… Observe, Luna. Observe.

Wait. What?

"What was that, Hermione?"

The brown-haired girl who just sat down beside her at the table repeated herself, "Have you seen Harry? He ran off right after class."

"Oh? No, I haven't Hermione. Did something happen?" Luna leant forwards as the Gryffindor thought it over.

"No. Not really. He's just been acting really weird these couple of days, running of at the weirdest of times."

"Yea," Ron cut in from the other side of her. "We were thinking you knew what was up."

Luna thought this over for a moment. "I would if you guys tell me more about the times he runs." Ron stopped his fork mid-way to his mouth. "Nothing happens to trigger it. He's just been distracted all the while. Then he runs out as soon as he gets the chance." He went back to eating.

Hermione also turned back to her food but leant slightly to the side, towards Luna and whispered, "He seems to be chasing someone."

That made Luna quirk an eyebrow. "Who?" Hermione finally turned to her and quirked _her_ eyebrow at her Luna. Straightening, Hermione didn't say anything and went back to eating her food.

* * *

**A/N: Before flaming, let me tell you that this chapter, although quite boring and repetitive (which is actually my fault. But I had trouble squeezing it out during the dry season in my brain!) is actually a crucial part in the transmission of this story. Luna has a huge part in my plot. So this chapter is about how she thinks, how she feels about what is happening with Harry. Very, very crucial.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

* * *

He turned a corner, then another, swiftly. Down one stairway, then another. The girl's bathroom, past that. Down a short corridor, a long one, through a tapestry on the left, twenty-two steps, down a darker corridor, past the Charms classroom. Right turn. Up the stairs.

No one.

Up a flight of stairs.

What was that?

Faster. Another corner.

Transfigurations classroom, up two flights of stairs, right turn. Through another tapestry.

Stop.

A minute. Two. A shadow and the tapestry parted.

"What do you want, Lovegood?" He almost snarled out the last word. The girl let the tapestry fall behind her before saying, "To talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about. Go back before I start to dock off points." He shouldn't have thought it was that easy to make her go away.

"But I have something to talk to you about, so there _is_ something to talk about."

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw, for being out after curfew."

"That isn't very nice, Draco."

"Do you honestly think I care, Lovegood?" He raised his nose a little higher.

"Yes, I do. I think the Frooratoes have gotten to you." She said that with a straight face. "The whatta-?" The blond asked. "You know what, forget it, Lovegood. Ten points for disobeying a Prefect."

Undeterred, the girl said, "I wanted you talk with Harry. I know you're sending the cards, Draco." The boy tried not to flinch but his arm twitched slightly with the effort. He raised his nose just a little higher and straightened his back. "So what if I am? Going to hex me, Loony?"

"No. Why would I do that?" She asked, genuine curiosity in her voice, her head tilting to one side, her radish earring dangling, glinting in the dim firelight that seeped in through the tapestry from the corridor beyond. When Draco just shrugged in response she continued. "I just want you to talk with him."

This time, the blond couldn't hold back the flinch and recoiled slightly. "Why should I?" His voice didn't come out as solid as he wanted it to be. But the girl just shrugged, like he did and said in that voice of hers that seemed as if she were sleep-talking, "He seems pretty bothered by it." Then she looked into Draco's eyes. "I don't mind you sending the cards. But it seems that Harry does. He's been looking for you, trying to talk to you, or get you to talk to him."

"Five points from Ravenclaw."

"What for?"

"You're getting on my nerves."

"That wasn't very nice, Draco."

"So I've heard. Go back. Before I take more." The boy started to step past her and through the tapestry, back out into the corridor. Before it shut completely, he heard, "Just talk to him, Draco."

He wasn't sure if that was Lovegood or just the voice in his head talking.

* * *

**A/N: This is another short interlude chapter like the one before. How Luna figured it out, just like how she figured out Harry was bothered about the card. I'm sure you don't want me to go through that again. It is rather trying to write something like that, even if it is mostly rubbish.**

**And for all of you who are expecting a happy ending... hm... there will be. For the **_**entire**_** story. But I'll give you a clue. This is only the prequel to another part of the story.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. **

* * *

Harry didn't know what to say.

It was really ironic, to say the least, since he'd been waiting for this opportunity for a few weeks now.

A bell rang somewhere and Harry vaguely registered that they were late for class but he didn't give it any thought. The rather unexpected situation right now was more than he could handle.

A flip of hair before "Listen, Potter. You wanted to talk, so I went all the way to scout for you and the best time to do so before stalking you and finding the best time to drag you off from your two friends and your _girlfriend_," more than a hint of contempt there, "then drag you off from your two friends and you're _here_ so that we can _talk_ and now all you do is stand there are stare and stare and NOT _talk_."

Malfoy paused in his rant but before he could even finish gaping to open his mouth to gape, he continued, "Fine! If you're not going to say anything then forget it!"

Then he turned to walk away.

To say Harry was stunned was an understatement. He almost didn't know how to react and watched Malfoy disappear beyond the tapestry they were hiding behind before coming to his senses.

He rushed out, grabbed the arm of the other boy as he heard footsteps approaching and hauled him back towards and behind the tapestry again. They waited, a bit disoriented by the sudden change from darkness to light and then darkness again, as the footsteps passed and they were left in the quiet privacy again.

Something yanked at his right hand and made him release the arm he forgot he was holding. Harry stared as Malfoy took his time to straighten his robes and flick the hair that was in his eyes again, before looking up, but still not looking at Harry. "What?" He asked in that superior tone of his. Like he wasn't the one who pulled him here in the first place only to ramble on and run just a minute ago. Harry decided he wouldn't and didn't want to understand the one and only Draco Malfoy.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts before finally speaking, "Malfoy."

"_What_?"

"God! Why are you so annoying? Can't you just stop and _listen_ to me for a moment?" Harry burst out, resisting the urge to pull at his hair and stomp about. But Malfoy was just _irritating._

Right after his outburst Harry wished he hadn't said that. Surprisingly, the boy in front of his did go silent. But now it was more awkward than before. He snuck a look at Malfoy and let out a heavy sigh. His face had gone indifferent again.

He ran a hand through his black hair and looked down at his sneakers. "Sorry."

They didn't say anything for a while – Harry, hands in his pocket and kicking at the dust on the floor, and Malfoy, just _standing_ there in his unnerving calm.

"I did want to talk to you."

Silence on the other end. Harry sighed again and took a deep breath before he plunged ahead, still looking down. "Do you really mean it? About, you know, liking me and… you know, all that stuff."

Silence again. Harry chanced a peek, only have to find intense grey eyes pin him to the spot. _What now?_ "Um…"

Malfoy's words were quiet and slow, and utterly free of expression, "Did you think that I was leading you on?"

For a moment, Harry seemed to be at a lost of words again. "Well…"

"Get one thing straight, Potter," Malfoy started, his tone now full of spite, so different from just a few seconds ago. "I might fool around and joke about many things. It's called a Sense of Humor, which you prove on countless occasions that you lack. But you do not see me laughing now."

And for the second time in ten minutes, Harry was once again facing the retreating swirl of expensive robes and standing behind a dusty old tapestry, alone and speechless.

* * *

And, indeed, Draco didn't feel like laughing at all. Not like he has in the past weeks, months, years. It seems like forever that this torture has persisted. He had to question himself again and again about things he didn't understand and then one thing followed the next and sometimes he felt in the middle of a self-destruction whirlpool of thoughts and grief like he was in now.

And he asked why. Why? Why did he, Draco Malfoy, of all people, fall in love with Harry Potter, of all people! Why?

He collapsed against the outer side of the Quidditch stands in, in his view, too many times recently, exhausted and on the verge of tears.

_He thought I was joking! Fooling around with him! Why? Why? Why? Merlin! Wby is it so hard. Why does it hurt so much? Why is it so hard to believe that I'm in love with him?_

He lifted his head, tilting it back all the way and looked up at the blue sky overhead, partially obscured by the looming form of the Quidditch stands behind him, trying to blink back the tears while swallowing the lump that formed in his throat.

_I spent so much time brooding and thinking and loving and he thinks this is all a hoax. I'm not going to fucking _cry!

On the last word he brought his left fist up and swung it violently back into the wall behind him, striking precisely on the edge of the metal bar of foundation he knew would be there.

He sat there the remainder of the day cradling his left hand and trying to convince himself that the tears that escaped were from the pain from his hand and not from somewhere deep inside.

* * *

Harry didn't know how he got to class after that. Nor did he pay any attention to the lecture Professor Topaz, the Defense teacher for this year, gave him. He had no clue what was said in the lessons and then he suddenly found himself at lunch in the Great Hall all of a sudden when Ron shoved him in the arm.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked.

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry had to stare a full minute and more at her before letting the question fully sink in and register. "Huh?"

"Mate," That was Ron, so he turned to look at him, sitting next to Hermione. "You've been out of it since D.A. Where were you before that anyway? Why were you late? You were there behind us one moment and the ne—OW! What?" Another nudge from and signal from Hermione shut him up.

Glancing back at Harry whom Hermione had motioned to, he saw what she meant. Their friend wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he had now taken a serving of mash potatoes, which had splattered half on and half off his plate and was pushing the lucky portion which had ended up on his plate off. His knuckles were slowly turning white.

He was clearly troubled.

When he cleared everything off with the fork and continued to stare and scrap, creating the horrible screeching of metal across glass, Hermione reached out a hand to stop him, making him break out of his reverie and look up, blinking like he just realized where he was.

At that moment Luna chose to sit down slowly beside him and asked, casually, "Did the both of you talk?"

Harry jerked so violently his knee collided with the table and he almost toppled backwards, if not for Dean catching him in time. He recovered and stared at his girlfriend, his mouth hanging open.

"I asked him to." Luna said, now spooning some soup into her mouth, seemingly unconcerned.

"Y-You," Harry…didn't know what to say. What to think. It was happening too often today.

"You obviously wanted to talk and he obviously needed to talk." She looked at him, her face betraying no emotion but that dreamy gaze of hers.

Harry looked down at his hands. Then back up at Luna. Back at his hands. Luna. He shook his head like a dog trying to rid himself of the water clinging to him. Then he looked back at Luna.

"How-" He swallowed. "How did you know?"

Luna just looked at him and said, "It wasn't so hard, Harry."

He didn't know what to think of that answer, so he didn't. "Why?"

"Did I try and get him to talk to you? Because you wanted to and he needed to."

He couldn't believe it. She was just calmly looking at him while she explained this all to him. All of a sudden, he felt the curious, inquiring look of his friends and he try to focus back on the immediate situation in front of him. But he lowered his voice so the rest of the conversation remained (somewhat) private. "Luna, don't you mind?"

"No."

"But- But how can you not?" The question swimming in his head since the arrival of the first card came to the front of his mind again. "Don't you feel anything at all? Aren't you jealous? How can you just let anyone, let alone him, to talk to me in private?" He was trying to process all this in and arrange it into neat, sensible piles in his head but all the confusion from the morning refused to allow him to do that.

"Harry," Luna turned fully towards him in her seat and laid both her hands upon his right one, seeing as his left was out of reach on the table (and thankfully, because it was covered in Dean's soup) and looked him in the eyes, her gaze still dreamy but filled with concern and care. Harry thought he could see a little irritation and understood that she felt that he should know this by now, but he didn't.

"I want you to be happy, no matter what."

Lunch ended and Luna got up for her afternoon classes, and so did the rest of the Great Hall. Except for the rest of the Gryffindor table and a few Ravenclaws, intrigued and totally absorbed in the scene unfolding before them, though they didn't have the slightest clue of what was going on.

"Come on, Harry." His girlfriend starched out her hand to him, just like always, waiting for him to take it and walk to classes together. He stared, stunned, before reaching out and grasping it.

As they parted at the junction of the hallways to go to their respective classes and she looked back at him, waving bye, and he stood there watching her go, when he got the full implication of that one sentence.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. **

* * *

Draco set the letter down beside him gently on the bed. After a while, Vincent came in and asked him what was wrong and why he was staring into space like that, then exited again with a shrug when he didn't answer.

Blaise was next, when he came he before going down to dinner but he didn't try very hard in persuading Draco to go down and eat because he heard from Vincent.

Later, all his other roommates came in one by one, got ready for bed and then went to sleep, Vincent switching on Draco's bedside lamp for him as the rest said their goodnights.

Hours went by.

Finally, as the sun began to lighten the sky a light pink, Draco had made up his mind.

Picking up the parchment still lying beside him and summoning a quill to him, he wrote back.

* * *

**A/N: Finally I see a bit of this story unfolding.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. **

* * *

It was a Thursday, and Quidditch practice was just over. There was a match with Slytherin coming up in a few weeks. Harry hoped that the weather would improve. How was anyone to fly in this friggin' cold?

He shivered as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower and felt his body tense and break out in sweat before it adjusted to the sudden temperature change. His muscles ached, especially in the shoulders and the legs which he used to hold onto the broom.

Yet, he felt a great sense of achievement push the pain to the back of his mind. Practice went well today. The team knew their places assigned by Wood, although amidst constant murmured grumbling and he had stayed back a bit longer after the rest of the team had left to practice his some more and just fly.

He turned off the shower with a smile on his lips at the thought of that and plucked the towel from where it hung on the top of the door to start drying himself off.

Harry had no doubts of Gryffindor winning the first match of the school year.

Then he frowned. Thinking about Quidditch made him think about Slytherin which inescapably led to thinking about the most popular Slytherin in school – Draco Malfoy.

Until now, Harry couldn't figure out the blonde. Another card came the previous Saturday, as usual, but the person was as elusive as ever. It frustrated him to no end as Harry felt that they needed another talk. The previous one hadn't gone very well. Fuck that, it downright sucked.

The memory alone was enough to make Harry cringe as he pulled on his clothes and picked up his broom. Malfoy had totally misunderstood him! But Harry had to admit it was not entirely the Slytherin's fault. He himself was to blame. He should have chosen his words more carefully, considering how delicate the situation was.

Head filled with thoughts, the dark-haired boy exited the showers that was beside the Quidditch Pitch and began making his way back towards the castle for dinner. The lights flooding out from the shower rooms dimmed and went out completely as it sensed no more presence within and Harry was swallowed by the night, the castle lights not reaching as far as the Pitch. Only the crunching of his footsteps of the frozen grass and dirty snow belied that someone was there.

"Potter."

Harry screamed, jumping back and fumbling for his wand in his robes. Before he could even reach into the pocket a Lumos-tipped wand was shoved under his nose, temporary blinding him. A hand gripped his arm and began dragging him, from what he could guess, back where he came from.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden light, Harry blinked and saw none other than Draco Malfoy dragging him now alongside the Quidditch stands. Too bewildered by this sudden situation, Harry was silent apart from a quiet "_Malfoy_?"

Said blonde stopped abruptly and spun around to face him, making Harry almost stumble into him and an extended wand still lit by Lumos that almost took his left eye out.

"Listen to me, Potter, and stop fooling around. I want to get this over and done with as quickly as possible." At the clipped, urgent tone, Harry straightened up to attention and immediately felt ridiculous as it felt like he was in an army camp. Before he could sound a protest though, Malfoy was already continuing.

"A letter is going to come to you soon, though I don't know exactly when. When you receive it, burn it. Do not open it. Do not read it." No sneer or sign of the usual contempt was on that face. Not even the look of disgust or disdain that it usually wore was there nowadays. The grey eyes in front of him were as serious as he had ever seen them. More serious than even when Snape gave out detentions. There was a burning urgency in them and it scared Harry a little. "Malfo—"

The grip was back on his arm again, and harder than before, making it hurt. He tensed and gasped as he was jerked closer and the other boy was so close he felt every small breath that came with each word.

"I am serious, Potter. It will most probably come to your room, in privacy, than in the Great Hall and more will most probably be sent if the first one fails. They may even persist throughout the holidays. _Do not_ open _any_ of them. Are you clear? Not if you want your life."

Harry kept on staring into those eyes as the urgency in the voice died down to a silent and deadly threat. He was shocked speechless. Thoughts flew every which way in his head and he couldn't grasp onto any one of them. Questions burned in his mind but he couldn't find his voice.

A little but firm shake made him utter a small affirmative, though, but he still could not move. Cold plus adrenaline had his muscles cramping.

The intense eyes moved closer and hot breath hit his ear. "No matter what happens, do not open it. Understand?" It was all Harry could do to nod.

A small wheezing sound followed by another blow of hot breath along with the rise and abrupt fall of the shoulder in front of his eye indicated a deep sigh and the grip that he forgot was on his arm loosened.

For a few moments, nothing moved and no sound was made except of the small wheezes of their breathing, one very close to his ear. Small puff of condensation rose up in front of Harry's face every time he exhaled.

Just when he could hold it in no longer and opened his mouth to speak, Malfoy moved back and had turned away in one smooth move, Lumos extinguished, striding away and not looking back, the crunch of dirty snow fading into the night.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. **

* * *

Saturday came. And so did another one of those cards which Harry never bothered to open in front of anyone else nowadays, despite their asking him to do so. Honestly, did everyone think his love life a great show? He snorted at that thought. _They think my whole_ life _is a great show. _He wondered what, really, was so interesting as he watched the tiny owl fly off. A quick glance of the Hall this morning showed that his master was not here as usual.

And they had begun to give him and Luna weird looks too. He finally knew why after breakfast, while walking Luna back to her common room to get some homework so that they could study together.

"….on her."

"_You can't _be sure of that, Sarah. Stop making assumptions"

"I'm not making assumptions. Everyone can see the way he treats those cards. If I were Luna, I would have made him tear those stupid things right there and then. Not keep them in his bag like his precious –"

"Sarah, you're not Luna."

"That's the problem! He's taking advantage of her soft personality…."

_Sarah's _words died down when they rounded the corner and saw him and Luna standing there, hand-in-hand. An awkward moment passed before the two girls scrambled passed them, one giving them an apologetic glance and _Sarah_ smiling at Luna then pointedly glaring at Harry before pointedly turning back to her friend.

Luna just walked on, tugging on his hand for him to keep up, like they hadn't just heard something that could prove detrimental to their relationship. Harry couldn't believe his girlfriend. He didn't say anything, just shook his head and walked her back to her common room.

* * *

He had just entered his dorms, scrubbing at his damp hair with a towel, when he heard the tap at the window. Glancing towards it, he saw the owl perched on the ledge outside, staring unblinkingly at him.

He put down his damp towel and went over to open the window. The stern-looking owl hopped in and extended the letter, tied by a cord around its left leg, to him. Before he had untied it fully, the bird spread it wings and took off. Harry just managed to grab hold of the letter before it fell out of his reach and out the window.

_That bird sure was in a hurry._ He thought as he sat down on the bed to open the letter.

"_It will most probably come to your room, in privacy."_

Harry looked up and around the empty dorm room he shared with his friends.

"…_burn it. Do not open it."_

He looked down at the letter again.

"_Not if you want your life."_

His hand shook as he stared at the envelope in his hands. I was just a normal looking envelope. Nothing strange about it. He flipped it over and examined the wax seal. That was strange though. The seal was just that -- a seal. No insignia. Nothing. Just wax. But stamped down with a ring, instead of a solid circle.

_Just open it. Why are you listening to Malfoy? It may just be another trick to get you to… It may just be a trick._

He reached out his other hand to break the seal. But he stopped mid-way.

It would make more sense if he had asked me to _open_ the letter.

Abruptly, he reached to the side to his bedside table and grabbed his wand. He hesitated after lifting the slim piece of wood, before almost shouting "_Incendio!_" and watching the parchment dissolve in flames. A dull blue with purple silvers in-between. Now that shouldn't be right. _Incendio_ was a bright blue.

Panting, he stood staring into the licking flames until he calmed down and the fire burned out, taking the last of the letter with it, he surmised what he had to do.

_Malfoy and I need another talk. _

* * *

"Malfoy, we need to talk."

Draco's shoulders tensed for a split second before he turned around and regarded the Gryffindor before him. "What is it with you and these_ talks_, Potter? Who are you getting counseling from, your girlfriend?"

Harry sneered at him before grabbing his arm and dragging him along the same course that they had taken a few days before when they he had warned him of the letter, shower-room lights flickering off behind them. Draco had a great sense of déjà vu and the overwhelming conflict of emotions that urged him to pull his arm away and grab hold of the other boy in front of him at the same time.

_Damn Harry Potter and himself._

Finally they stopped at exactly the same spot that they had a talk… No, no… When Draco had warned him about the letter. Guess Potter learned from the best -- ambush after Quidditch practice, drag and _talk_. Draco felt it was high time to stop imitating Potter in flying too much. Merlin knew I was bringing him more _talks_ than he had ever had in his past seventeen years.

He kept an impassive face as Potter turned to face him, _Lumos_ in his hand and words already rushing out of his mouth like he had practiced them a thousand times and had to spit them out before he lost his nerves, which was probably true. "What was that letter about?"

Draco raised his eyebrow. "What letter?"

There. That indignant expression that he had expected. But he spoke again before Potter could come shouting his lungs out and that would absolutely go nowhere. "I don't know. And I'm only answering you now because, apparently, you don't either, which means you didn't open it. Keep it up, Potter. Goodnight."

The dark-haired boy grabbed his arm as he turned around and spun him back again, as he anticipated. What he didn't expect was for Potter to actually step up so close so that he could see the green of his eyes specked with brown and just the slightest tint of blue to the irises that made his eyes seem brighter than normal in the right light. The thick glasses made them seem larger than they were.

"Don't you dare turn away from me again." The breath hit his face so sharp he didn't dare move lest it cut. "Tell me what this is all about. How did you know about this letter? Tell me why it is so dangerous and why the _hell_ do you keep avoiding me and moving away when you say you love me?"

He was intoxicated and he told himself not to breathe and take in more of the scent that was Harry. But it was that or passing out from lack of air and he had to take a deep gulp. Merlin. No. Harry. Harry. Yes, it was Harry.

He couldn't think straight. Harry was leaking magic, as he often did when he got angry and lost the little controlled he didn't even know he had. That was a reason he liked to antagonize the Gryffindor. Malfoys were sensitive to any strong magic and they were easily affected by it. But he had never been this close to Harry before when he was angry. Determined, yes, during Quidditch, but that did not make him lose as much control as when he was mad.

Now, waves after wave of pure, furious magic was flowing over him and drowning him in a sea of ecstasy. One thought struggled to the surface, though.

"Move away." He barely managed to utter those two words. Harry gave another one of those indignant stares and opened his mouth, most probably to demand that he was not finished. "_Move away_."

Now those green eyes expanded a little as he noticed the face of the blonde before him. Draco knew it most probably looked paler than usual and drawn with the effort of not just drawing the source of power closer to him. To stop the compulsion of that it gave him to just lose himself and just kiss the black-haired boy. Harry stepped back but didn't release the grip on his arm.

Almost immediately, the sensations died down as the distance increased slightly and, as Draco opened eyes he didn't know he had closed, he saw the look of concern came over the one of anger on Harry's face. The magic still hovered over them though, just less agitated and more tamed.

Draco got a hold of himself enough shove the other boy away so that more distance was put between them. However, the magic seemed to soar up again because of that but died down as he visibly hunched.

"Malfoy..." The quiet worry in the voice made him straighten up again.

"_What_, Potter?" He hadn't intended for that much venom to be in his tone but he was feeling edgy. That proved to be a wrong move as the magic around them tightened and stretched taut, like a whip flung out but snapped back, barely drawn back in time.

Draco scowled. "I don't know what that letter is about, just that you shouldn't open it. You don't want something like what happened in the Ministry to occur again, do you?"

Potter gasped, "How did you—" The magic wound tighter and he hunched slightly once more under the pressure.

"Potter," he snapped his gaze to the side to glare at the stricken face and felt a pang of… something. He was being cruel, and he knew it. "I know that you shouldn't open the letter, at least. Do you not think that I would know about that incident?"

The shocked face just gaped at him and Draco saw pain behind those green eyes. He made it a reason to go on, instead of stopping. No more pain should come to Harry – not if he could help it.

He made himself stand upright and take a step closer, not enough to make the dazed boy step back but enough to gain his attention and make a point. "They'll try harder, again and again. Next time, don't even touch it." He reached out a hand on impulse and let it ghost over Harry's left temple, cheek, jaw. "I'll take care of it." _I'll take care of you._

Once more, he left him dazed and shaking.

* * *

**A/N: This was where I stopped the last time. I cannot promise it will continue from this repost. This wes mainly to correct some nagging mistakes.**

**I thank all my reviewers who have been pushing me occasionally through these... years, I think it's been, to update. I will try. But I'm the type of writer who writes only with A LOT of inspiration, which I don't have much of. So... I'll try to get at least one more up soon. Ok?**

**:)**

**GD**


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